Voices from the spirit world can be heard through the darkwinternights, the heartbeats of the spirit. It is the holy twelvedays of Yule. Dark shapes can be seen in the sky; riders ofdeath. They suddenly charge down from the clouds in wonderfulwilderness; kings and chieftains, thieves and murderers - all inthe same phalanx, drifting mysteriously through the air on spirithorses, arriving when least expected. Black shields, furs frombear and wolf, shining blades, open wounds and ropes still tiedaround their necks; they are Wuotan's pack of warges, the undeadand the dead - the immortal warriors of Ansuzgarda! Thewerewolves haunt the sacred twelve days of Yule in packs, lookingafter the living; hail the sacred traditions, hail the spirits ofthe dead, hail the holy ritual of Wuotan, or face the wrath ofthe Ansuz and the hooves of Sleipnir. Face the Ansuzgardaraiwo!